Mess We Made
by Deanstiel's Daughter
Summary: Set in Season 6. Bojack gets out of Rehab. The rest of the world, as he knows it, has changed in so many ways.


Mess We Made

The first thing he notices when he steps through those doors is the sky.

It's warm out. He doesn't remember it being this warm when he first walked through those doors six weeks ago. No, it was ten weeks ago. He almost slipped up during the fifth week and decided to stay for some extra time.

Bojack Horseman, making a choice that wasn't so screwed up beyond recognition it caused detrimental damage to himself or somebody else, who would have thought it possible?

His fingers twitch for a moment, reaching for a cigarette that isn't there, and then the guilt sets in again. He drops his hand to his side and taps his fingers against his leg instead.

The sky is soft pink. The clouds running across the sky like those horses he saw in the desert when he ran from the Secretariat movie. When shit first started to really go down. The ocean across from the rehab center sparkles in the setting sun. A rippled sheet of diamonds leading to a place that's supposed to make better diamonds out of people.

He hails an Uber. Nobody sent a car for him. He didn't need Diane to be here to pick him up. Maybe it's better she isn't here. She's an old habit. Part of an old lifestyle he can't be around anymore.

Yet, he sees her face down every mile the driver drives. The only one who didn't give up on him through all the bullshit.

There are no debts to be repaid. There are no amends to be made. He's done the world a service by reforming himself. That's what therapy taught him. That's what he has to stick by.

Still, it's hard not to feel the sinking, drowning feeling at the thought of all he's put everybody through as the driver passes through the tunnel and Bojack closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

It's night and Diane sits on her futon, glass of wine at her feet, which are up on her secondhand coffee table full of scratches and nicks in the glass. She swears somebody came into the room, took their hands, and scooped out every ounce of her being from her body.

Her laptop screen illuminates the whole room, casting it in this ghostly white light. Her eyes sting from the lack of sleep. Her glasses slide down her nose and she adjusts them. She stares at the Facebook page she's had open for the last twenty minutes.

**Life Event: Mr. Peanutbutter Got Engaged to Pickles Aplenty**

The dumb bastard did it again…

She can't really blame him for being a chickenshit about it. But it's in his nature. Selfishness and disappointment. He comes by it honestly though. With his impulsiveness and a teenage mentality to match. Not thinking about anybody, but himself.

Pickles and he are perfect for one another.

Yet, there's something deep down in Diane's gut that screams. It claws at her outer shell and threatens to spill loose from its confines. She has to rat him out. The longer she scrolls, the harder she stares at all the pictures of the engagement party, and the fact that it's happening right now and she's sitting home alone with her computer and wine.

Her ex-husband is getting married again…for the fourth time in his life. She shouldn't care, but she does.

She doesn't want him back. That much she's come to terms with over the past few months. Sure, she'll admit she craves the familiarity, the routine. Knowing she was going to wake up and have somebody to say "good morning" to. The same somebody who'd previously held her tight all through the night and made her feel safe, even if only for a moment.

Pickles is that girl now.

And Diane can't even muster up the strength to be jealous. So, instead, she lets her stomach drop to her feet, and starts to pack a bag.

Princess Carolyn paces back and forth in her living room. She goes over the significant events of the day. Amelia, her adopted daughter, lies in a deep slumber in the safety of her arms. For the first few days, her mind raced with unimaginable thoughts: Did she do the right thing? Why did I do this to myself? Tracy was right. I'm not fit to be a mother.

Then, Amelia curled her little fist around Princess Carolyn's thumb and suddenly, everything was okay.

Now, Princess Carolyn takes a seat on the couch, smiling down at her newborn child. She twitches and coos in her sleep, snuggling closer to Princess Carolyn's chest. Princess Carolyn rocks her, humming a long-buried tune she remembers from her youth. Back when her mother wasn't passed out on the couch every night. Back when things were still good.

Protect. It's the first word that came to mind to fit the first emotion she felt holding Amelia for the first time.

The knock at the door startles Princess Carolyn, but luckily doesn't wake Amelia. She turns the knob, balancing Amelia against her chest with one arm under her bottom.

"Sorry," Diane says, clutching at the handle of her suitcase like it's a lifeline. "I know it's late. I didn't want to be alone."

"It's only nine thirty." Princess Carolyn remarks, letting Diane in.

"I can imagine that's late for new mothers," Diane replies. "How's it going, by the way?"

"Crazy," Princess Carolyn sits beside Diane on the couch. "Hectic. Loving. Great. I think I'm running out of adjectives."

Diane's shocked when she finds herself reaching for the infant. Princess Carolyn carefully instructs her on how to hold her and Diane gives a nervous smile.

"I'm kind of glad Mr. Peanutbutter also didn't want kids," she explains, nervously tapping her foot on the floor as she talks. "I wouldn't know the first thing about what to do with a child. I just…don't think that's in me, ya know?"

"You think I know what I'm doing?" Princess Carolyn chuckles and gets up to pour the two of them a glass of wine. "I'm just figuring this shit out as I go along."

"Don't you ever get…scared though?"

"Scared of what?" Princess Carolyn cocks her head.

"Wandering through this great unknown without anybody to hold your hand," Diane explains. "Or even just to give you five minutes to catch your breath. Or to take the small of your back, gently move you aside, and say that they've got this. Go sit down. I'll take care of it. Teamwork. Partnership. I don't know. Never mind, I don't know what I'm saying."

"I definitely think that you're projecting." Princess Carolyn narrows her gaze, trying to pry any words from Diane she's willing to share.

"I just…"

"Mr. Peanutbutter is engaged," Princess Carolyn explains. "And you find it your moral duty to warn this girl about what may or may not end up becoming her fate. The same fate you succumbed to."

"I did not _succumb _to anything," Diane uses air quotes when she's being extra defensive. This much Princess Carolyn has learned about her over the years they've worked together. "Mr. Peanutbutter and I were just…bound for explosion I guess."

"So, what if you were," Princess Carolyn takes a sip of wine. Amelia makes her way back to her arms and the lack of weight in Diane's arms makes the emptiness return. "So, what if this relationship is too. You, running in there like some proverbial white knight spouting truths about whatever happened between you and him, may give you that sweet release you've been looking for, but in the end, it won't change a damn thing."

"It could prevent a lot of heartbreak." Diane rubs at her arm.

"That's not your job." Princess Carolyn nods with conviction.

She stands and places Amelia in her bassinet to rest a bit longer before the inevitable ten o' clock feeding and diaper change. Followed by three more a night. The bags under her eyes are heavy, but she wears them with pride.

"When I first started working in the industry," Princess Carolyn explains. "You know, how close I was with Bojack. I'm sure he's mentioned it."

Diane nods.

"We had a very messed up relationship," she continues. "Bound for an explosive finish, as you put it. I wanted so badly for it not to end that way, but I realized there was no escaping it. Fast forward to several months into our turmoiled, so-called relationship and I'm face down in my toilet every morning for weeks."

Diane feels her stomach tug.

"My second miscarriage was his kid."

"Does he know?"

"I never told him," Princess Carolyn stares out the glass doors to her deck, watching clouds cover the moon for a moment before allowing it to breathe once again. "I never will. It's from another time. My chapter with him, in that way, is done. It would be no use for me to invade his life with that knowledge now."

"So," Diane tries to rationalize what her friend is saying. "You're telling me that I should just carry this dirty little secret around with me forever, and just it all go, instead of warning a sweet, innocent girl that her marriage is probably doomed to fail?"

"Exactly," Princess Carolyn shrugs. "The world will keep on spinning whether you tell her a single word of what you're thinking or not. She has to learn this on her own, if it's going to end up happening to her. Your chapter with him is over. Hers is about to begin. How its written is up to her, not you. Free yourself from the expectation of being her savior and you'll sleep easier at night."

Diane pauses, thinking about what Princess Carolyn has just said to her. She's right. Pickles is happy. Right now, she's invited all her friends to Mr. Peanutbutter's new house. The one he was supposed to live in with Diane, but that's beside the point. Right now, they're drinking and celebrating, and Pickles is showing off her beautiful diamond ring to her soon-to-be bridesmaids and wedding guests. Her smile could move mountains. She's bursting with happiness and hope for a good future.

If Diane were to walk in there right this very moment and give her testimonial, she can picture this girl's face. Her doe eyes going big, she'd practically hear her heart shatter as it dropped from its resting place in her chest, and she'd run away crying to wherever she felt safe because it wasn't there anymore. Diane will have shattered something beautiful, no matter what farces it was built on.

She doesn't want to carry the weight of that with her.

This is Mr. Peanutbutter's mistake too. He'll have to deal with it. To have it eat him alive aside, and to have it destroy something magical he would have had if he chooses to ever come clean about the affair. Diane will try her best not to have that kind of guilt lingering over her head.

What's done is done, but she gets to start anew. She gets to walk away from all the self-destruction and into the unknown, with everybody who still cares about her holding her hand from the sidelines.

"I'm going to Boston," Diane says, moving her hair from her eyes. "I don't know for how long. My rent is up in a few weeks. I might just…not come back."

"A job will always be here for you if you need it," Princess Carolyn smiles with confidence, at Diane's decision. "And friends. You have to get out of this town, before it swallows and digests you any more than it already has."

Diane smiles at that, drinking wine, and almost all thoughts of Mr. Peanutbutter are forgotten, if only for a moment in time.

Bojack doesn't know why he ended up here.

Diane doesn't even live with Mr. Peanutbutter anymore. It's an entirely new house too, with a modern design and landscaping. The driveway is pebbles. The grass is drought resistant. The plants look like they're from New Mexico.

Bojack swallows hard, silently forgiving himself as he was taught, for what happened there.

The longer he stares, the longer he contemplates turning around and wandering home.

Diane's roof is gone. He finds himself sad over that.

Mr. Peanutbutter stands in the corner of his living room, nursing a beer, and trying to ignore the crawling under his skin.

He feels dirty. Deceitful. The feeling only increases every time he hears Pickles' melodious laugh or hears her squeal about something wedding related.

"We talked about Europe for the honeymoon," she explains to a girlfriend, all while holding a glass of wine and excitedly twirling her necklace. "Everything feels so done though! I've also never been anywhere tropical. I've never been anywhere out of LA really. It's just gonna be a blast! Oh, of course I'll keep you guys updated on Instagram."

Mr. Peanutbutter gives her a timid smile when she makes eye contact and waves at him. He's glad she's so engrossed in her own conversations she doesn't make him join any of them. He's so afraid he'll just spew everything like some form of word vomit. Or that he'll get so drunk he'll accidentally blab too much and reveal the big secret he's got running through his head at all hours of the day.

He'd wanted to tell her, but her innocence had stopped him. Sure, it was selfish of him to ask for yet another wife, but what else was he supposed to do? Fail somebody else?

Story of his life…

Mr. Peanutbutter finishes his beer and his eyes follow the stairs upward.

The roof is calling.

The party is loud and everywhere Bojack looks there are temptations of his old life, but the harder he looks, he finds the less he wants it. The thought leaves bitterness in his mouth. God, he never thought he'd get to this point.

"Bojack!" Pickles bounds over to him, earning a confused look from Bojack. "I don't remember inviting you, but I'm sure I did, you just never RSVP'd. Oh well, no harm done. There' so many things going on right now in my life I probably just didn't keep track of all the RSVPS. On another note, EEEEEEE! I'm getting married! Can you believe it?"

"I most certainly can," Bojack starts a retort, but doesn't finish it. That was the old him. Filled with distrust and disdain. He swallows the comment like a bitter pill.

"Mr. Peanutbutter and The Waitress, til' death do you part." He chuckles.

No sharp edge behind the nickname, just a simple razz. Pickles giggles.

"Only if I'm lucky," she nudges Bojack's arm. "Spoiler alert: I am! Enjoy the party! I've got more people to show this rock off to!"

Pickles runs off into the crowd, leaving Bojack by the refreshments table, and he immediately feels out of place.

He spots a certain yellow dog making his way up the rest of the stairs and follows.

"Mr. Peanutbutter and Bojack Horseman on the same roof," Mr. Peanutbutter says, but without his usual dose of enthusiasm. "What is this? A crossover episode."

"That joke got old in the 90's, Peanutbutter." Bojack shakes his head and sits on the roof beside the yellow Labrador.

"Yeah, I know." Mr. Peanutbutter sighs.

"So," Bojack points his thumb back through the open window they both crawled through. "You and The Waitress, huh?"

"Pretty crazy," Mr. Peanutbutter tries to plaster on a smile for Bojack. They're finally having a conversation not starting with name calling or disinterest. Mr. Peanutbutter doesn't want to jinx it.

"I heard you uh…went and talked to some people?"

"You can call it what it is," Bojack says. "We're all adults here, and yes I did."

"Did it help?" Mr. Peanutbutter dangles his second beer of the night by his foot. He watches the stars. He'll admit, he misses being able to see the highway from his old house. Another one of his colossal failures.

"I guess," Bojack shrugs and pulls his legs close to his chest. "Everything is just so…mute now. When I was on those pills, everything was in violent color. It was all so intense, but only the good emotions. It's hard to explain to somebody who's never-."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, buddy."

"Anyway," Bojack continues, floored by what his rooftop companion basically admitted. "Everything is normal now. I'm content with it, but it feels almost like I don't belong to this world. Like everybody around me has to tiptoe now, or I'll fall again."

Mr. Peanutbutter looks over at him.

"It's a hard thing to live with," Bojack says. "Day in and day out until the end of my life."

"It doesn't have to be that way." Mr. Peanutbutter cocks his head.

"I made a vow in rehab," Bojack closes his eyes tight and sighs. "It's been hard, but I can't become that person ever again. They said they'll be days when you look at the mess you made and feel like walking away from it without cleaning it up because it's too much, too many emotions attached to this mess, but you have to clean it up. You have to clean it up, or you'll never get better."

"Powerful stuff," Mr. Peanutbutter drinks his beer. "Oh god, buddy. I'm sorry I shouldn't…I can chuck this off the roof right now if you want me to?"

"Don't waste a perfectly good beer," Bojack chuckles. "It makes my stomach hurt now, just looking at it. Don't worry about tempting me."

"Wow," Mr. Peanutbutter remarks. "You really did change in there. Meanwhile, the rest of us stayed the exact damn same."

"Can't be that bad," Bojack looks at the night sky again. "You're getting married! Fourth time's the charm, right?"

"I cheated on Pickles," Mr. Peanutbutter lets it all out, looking over at Bojack with the look of man drowning with no lifeguard in sight. "I was going to tell her, but I proposed instead. Because I'm a goddamn idiot, Bojack."

"I've cheated loads of times," Bojack says. "Does it excuse anything? No. It's just a fact. Another series of things I've done and am trying to learn to forgive myself for."

"I cheated with Diane," Mr. Peanutbutter explains. "The night of the _Philbert_ premiere. I don't know what I was thinking. Pickles upset me because of a comment she made about the show and hating it, and Diane was just standing there waiting for her car, looking sad. I just wanted to drive her home. I felt bad. I felt bad that I was the reason she was standing there waiting for her car. If we'd still been together, we'd have driven together."

"Mr. Peanutbutter-."

"I worked so hard on that show," he continues. "That's the hardest I've ever acted. Not like you, with Secretariat and all. This was supposed to be my bigger break. Bigger than Mr. Peanutbutter's House, and she…hated it. I felt so…angry that night. Angry at her, when didn't need to be, it was just a stupid TV show."

"It meant something to you." Bojack replies, readjusting his position on the roof. "We're all passionate about things we love."

"I don't know whether or not I truly ever got over Diane," Mr. Peanutbutter admits. "Or whether I just wanted something familiar that night. Something to remind me of a time in my life when I finally thought I had it right for once."

"Maybe it's both," Bojack suggests. "Sometimes we never get over people. Sometimes they, and the time we spent with them, has a hold over us for the rest of our life. It doesn't mean we're bad people. It just means we gave our whole heart over to something bigger than us and allowed it to destroy us. There's something beautiful about that."

"Who are you," Mr. Peanutbutter laughs. "And what have you done with the Bojack I've always known?"

"I'm still me," Bojack sighs. "Deep down, I'm still the same person I was before I went into that place. I'm just trying a day at a time not to be. It's all I can do, according to them. That, and avoid drinking and pills."

"Good advice." Mr. Peanutbutter finishes his second beer and chucks the bottle anyway. It smashes somewhere in the distance.

"I don't even know if I want to get married again," Mr. Peanutbutter admits. "I only did it to cover up what I really did. I don't want my marriage to just be a convenient, lifelong lie."

"That's all up to you," Bojack says. "Only you can change that."

"Thanks, Bojack," Mr. Peanutbutter says. "I don't know why you're being so nice to me after all these years of subtle torment but thank you."

"What can I say?" Bojack shrugs again. "I'm trying to be a better person now."

The two of them finish the evening in silence, watching what stars they can see.

Dawn breaks and Bojack is fine.

At least, he thinks he's fine. He's not quite sure yet about his definition of fine. His house is entirely cleaned out of booze and drugs of any kind. It's clean. A note from Diane rested on the counter and he's read and reread it several times.

_**I don't know where you'll go from here, but I hope wherever it is you're finally happy while doing it.**_

Happy. It's still a long road to there.

He's called Hollyhock already and made plans for her to come out and they'll order pizza and watch movies she loves. Maybe they'll even go to the beach this time since he ruined her last visit with his addiction.

She's so understanding and books her tickets for a week out from that day.

The sun is coming up over the hill. The breeze is gentle. The city is surprisingly quiet, as though she's holding her breath until Bojack speaks first.

Meanwhile, Todd Chavez just spent a whole evening with a man named Judah and talked until his voice gave out about ideas he has, and Judah listened. Todd knows they'll grow closer. He knows they share the same preferences, if people get his drift. They'll grow closer and closer, they'll get there. Day by day.

Princess Carolyn is changing her fifth diaper of the night and chatting with Ralph Stilton, after an agreement they made to keep in touch. It's been hard, but they're getting there. Day by day.

Diane is waking up in her hotel room bed, still afraid to stay the night at home, but she did meet her adopted brother Gary down the street for breakfast. He's going to try and go to community college. He says she finally broke through his layers and inspired him. It's as close to glee as Diane can feel right now, when the other half of her brain is still wrestling with images of Mr. Peanutbutter waking up and hugging Pickles close to him. The two of them dancing in the kitchen late at night like Diane and he used to do. The image of their time together and how she realizes its all she wants back. The ownership of their time together. Slowly, the images fade as she goes about her day. She'll get to a point where they won't plague her anymore, whether she goes back to LA or stays in Boston for the rest of her life. She'll get there day by day.

Pickles smiles all through brunch and Mr. Peanutbutter holds her close, pretending that he's not being eaten alive inside. He can't change what he did. All he can do is hope he doesn't mess this one up too. He'll let the guilt fade away, as the hours and the mimosas pass by. One day he won't feel it anymore, he hopes. He'll get there. Day by day.

Bojack takes a sip of coffee and watches the sky. He notices how clear everything is, how much lighter he feels. It's quiet in this house, but his terrible thoughts no longer scream through the halls. They're becoming quieter and quieter. He's got a long journey, but soon the offers for more shows will roll in and the money will come back and he can get his life back on track. He's a reborn shell of a horse. All he has to do is fill that shell with new growth and hope he doesn't slip again. He won't though, he'll make sure of that. He will be okay.

So long as he takes it day by day.

**A/N: Woah! I'm really proud of this one! I really thought about life while writing this and all the emotions I've felt over the years regarding life and channeled that into this story. I really hope everybody wasn't too OOC, I just started to write, and it poured out of me.**

**Anyway, as always, please read and review and I will see y'all in the next thing I decide to pop back on here and write!**


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